


Vacation

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Covert Operation, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-11
Updated: 2011-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Fiona go undercover as exterminators and must convince an innkeeper they're a couple...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tumbler Fic meme for The-Promised-One: Prompt: _Burn Notice, Sam/Fi, doing what needs to be done to maintain their cover"_

“And you said your name was?”

 

Sam grabbed Fiona by the shoulder and drew her up against his chest. “Mister and Missus Chuck Finley,” he grinned. “We’ve been sent to take care of the grasshopper crises you guys’ve been complaining about to the upper brass.”

 

Their target raised a furry eyebrow. “Yes. They didn’t say they were sending in a husband and wife.”

 

Sam’s smile grew, crinkling the corners of his eyes, displaying a row of gleaming white teeth. “We’re new to the game,” he smirked. “Me and the misses have been doing freelance work.”

 

“Well,” the innkeeper declared, rolling open the drawer, “You can get into the executive suite with these…and if you do a good job, I’ll let you stay in one of the econo suites on the third floor.”

 

Fiona’s smiled blandly, her eyes dark and cruel. “Ooh, Charles, wouldn’t that be a dream? Our first vacation as a married couple!”

 

"Anything to keep the homefires burning, right?” He grabbed up the keys and walked her to the elevator. The innkeeper watched them closely, in that paranoid I-don’t-believe-you’re-married way. Sam knew how to cure her suspicions with one quick gesture.

 

He grabbed Fiona, slinging his arms around her waist and dragging her up his body for a hard, deep kiss. Fi jerked against his grip, yanked at his hair once, then melted into his touch with a soft groan. Her fingers skated across the l-shaped scar on his chin as they clung to each other, breaking apart once the elevator door swung closed.

 

Fiona shoved Sam back, and he leaned against the side wall, panting. “You,” she declared, “are unreal.”

 

“Huh,” he remarked. “Felt pretty real to me. Did you think the tongue was too much?”

 

She smacked his cheek, but followed it up with a kiss of her own.


End file.
